


Resurgence

by getoffthestagedarren



Category: Holby City
Genre: M/M, Past Abuse, so it’s the holby characters but theyre all teachers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffthestagedarren/pseuds/getoffthestagedarren
Summary: After his experiences with Isaac Mayfield, high school Drama teacher Dom Copeland just wants a quiet, uneventful year. But when a fresh-faced English teaching assistant with a bright smile and a kind heart starts at his school, Dom’s hopes are thrown into mayhem...





	Resurgence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the gc y’all real ones xxx](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+gc+y%E2%80%99all+real+ones+xxx).



> this is my first chaptered fic and i’ve been wanting to make it for about 6 months, so i’m really excited to be putting it into the world and i hope you all enjoy it!

1

Dominic Copeland has never liked early mornings. 

He’d much rather hide under the duvet until mid afternoon playing candy crush on his phone and avoiding his responsibilities than actually doing anything productive. Unfortunately, as a teacher, early mornings come with the territory, so when his alarm is reverberating around his little flat at the ungodly hour of 6am, he really can’t complain. 

“You picked this job,” he thinks to himself, “so you bloody well get up and do it.” As it’s the first day of term, he should probably get up now and not hit snooze - he can save that privilege for later on in the term.

Okay, in about two days. 

He reluctantly hauls himself out of bed and jumps in the shower. He flinches as the stream of water beats on the faded green bruises lining his ribs, and tries not to think about where they came from. As he slowly but surely wakes up under the weak drizzle of his shower, he thinks about what this year might have in store for him.

In terms of his teaching, things won’t differ too much from last year. He’ll have new exam classes and will see some of his old classes from the year before. He might try something a little different with the Christmas production. He’s heard from Zosia that there’s a few new teachers starting, including an English TA with a funny name that he can’t quite place right now. 

When it comes to his personal life, things have been relatively quiet recently. Not that that’s any kind of problem, given how things were before the summer. Dom quietly thanks Zosia and Arthur for helping him out of the situation he was in - he shudders when he thinks about what could have happened if they hadn’t got involved when they did. He’d rather have thousands of nights alone on his sofa with takeaways and trashy telly than one more night of panic attack upon panic attack and passing out from exhaustion and never being good enough.

Dom steps out of the shower and stares at himself in the mirror. Aside from the scar that’s still slightly purple round the edges punctuating his eye socket, he can’t help but notice how much healthier he looks.

He casts his mind back to a few months ago to when he was staring at himself in this mirror. Back then he’d looked gaunt and pale, no scars or bruises yet - on his face at least. He remembers hearing things being thrown around his bedroom in a seemingly unjustified rage, and remembers silently praying that something, anything, would save him from that walking nightmare.

Dom is snapped out of his daydream by his phone buzzing with a text from Zosia; 

‘morning sunshine! new year, new us eh? :)  
xxx’. 

He chuckles under his breath. 

‘don’t know how you’re so chipper at this time of the morning babes xxx’ 

While he waits for a reply, Dom goes back to his bedroom to tackle the momentous decision of what to wear. His wardrobe is pretty limited after half his wardrobe was thrown out - anything that Isaac didn’t deem ‘suitable’ for Dom was tossed in a bin bag and left in a cupboard, to then be hauled to a charity shop in the summer. After trying 5 different outfits and 7 different shirts, he settles on a blue button up shirt and dark grey cuffed trousers. Simple but stylish, he thinks. He doesn’t bother with a suit jacket - while he knows it’s a standard rule that all teachers should wear them, he doesn’t tend to conform - preferring to leave it in the costume cupboard gathering dust. Instead, he retrieves the fleece lined brown corduroy jacket hanging up on the back of his door, throws it on and rushes out of the flat.

Given that Dom’s 8 year old, second hand, should-be-scrap-metal-by-now car takes ten minutes to warm up enough to actually work, he has become used to setting off without breakfast, sticking the key in the ignition and using these 10 minutes to rush into the local cafè for their strongest black coffee and a pastry of some sort. An expensive habit, he admits, but he prefers it to rushing around his dingy kitchen fumbling through cheap cereal bars and bitter instant coffee. So he runs through this part of his day like clockwork and before he knows it he’s in his car on the way to school. As he sits there in traffic he has time to think- he has high hopes this year after the last had set the bar unbelievably low. He just wants this year to be quiet and relaxed - words that don’t usually breach the realms of his vocabulary, but that he is now going to try and incorporate.

He pulls into school and into the familiar car park. As he grabs his rucksack and computer bag out the boot, he gets the sense of trepidation that he feels at the start of every new school year - he’s hopeful that he’ll get well behaved classes and hopefully no year sevens, and feels more comforted than last year with the knowledge that the school won’t be having another Ofsted inspection for a while. If last year taught him anything, it’s that they only bring about misery - and not just for the school. He pulls his key fob out of his jacket pocket and lets himself in through the automatic doors at reception to be greeted by his friend Donna, the school secretary.

“Morning sweetheart! Happy about being awake at 7 in the morning again?” 

“You know me so well, Miss Jackson, there’s just something about teaching 32 stroppy teenagers on a Monday morning that brings me unadulterated joy.” 

“Well, it could be worse, at least we’re not getting Ofsted again this year. I don’t think my nerves could stand it.” 

Dom’s breath hitches for a split second, and he tries to mask it with a laugh. Donna rushes to change the subject.

“I’ve heard we’re getting some new staff this year.” 

“Oh yeah? Anyone that’s not middle aged and having a mid life crisis?” 

“From the people that came for interviews last year, I can’t be sure. I know the new deputy head that’s starting is pretty old - Henry Hanssen or something like that. I’m pretty sure his son’s joining the sixth form as well - they’ve just moved here from Sweden. Then there’s Fran something, the new maths teacher - I already don’t like her because she was really rude and impatient while I was trying to sort out her visitor’s pass for her interview. I’m surprised they gave her a job working with kids at all, if I’m honest.” 

Dom chuckles and leans against the reception desk. “Wow, she’s not even started and you’ve already got beef! You do surprise me, Donna. Is there anyone else?” 

“Oh yeah, I think Zosia’s getting an English TA in her class. First teaching job and all. Benjamin Chiltern - he was really chipper at his interview which surprised me because it was first thing.” 

“I don’t trust anyone who has the capacity to be in a good mood at 8am. Scares me a bit.” Dom mutters. 

“He looked like the poster child for junior strictly or something if I’m honest. He was also wearing brown trousers and he had one of those messenger bags - like a dad but about 10 years too young to be dressing that way.” 

Dom furrows his eyebrows. “Good god this school really does attract some weirdos.” 

Donna opens her mouth to reply but is cut off. The warning bell never seems to go off at a convenient time. “Well, I’ll see you at lunch!” she calls after him, and Dom waves back to her. He may not adore his job, but he does love some of the people he works with. As he approaches his classroom he fumbles with his keys until he finds the one for his classroom door, and as he opens it he feels a strange sense of comfort in the familiarity. 

“Well,” he thinks to himself as he sits down in the comfy desk chair and starts getting his laptop and planner out, “here’s to another year of my life.”


End file.
